


Hot Breakfast

by misha_anon



Series: As Good As It Gets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light breathplay, M/M, Mad Men AU, Masturbation, PWP, Panties, Power Imbalance, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak's job as Dean Winchester's secretary is to keep him happy in every way possible.  Castiel is good at his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mostly10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostly10/gifts).



> _This is set in the Mad Men world, but I don't consider it a true crossover because it's distinctly lacking in plot._

“Mr. Novak, my office please,” Dean Winchester says quietly as he approaches Castiel’s desk.  Castiel glances up in an effort to gauge his boss’s mood as he sweeps by; as usual he can’t read anything in the beautiful features.  Before he can say anything, Dean adds a not-so-quiet, “ _Now_ , Mr. Novak.  And close the door behind you.”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel answers, fumbling with the handful of papers he just finished typing.  Exasperated with himself, he drops them in a scattered heap on the desk and quickly follows Dean into his office and closes the door.  He makes sure to have his hand out as his boss pulls the fedora off his head, ready to take both it and the long coat Dean always wears.

Castiel turns to hang the coat and hat on the hatrack that stands empty beside the door, smoothing all the wrinkles from the former so that when Dean puts it on again later, it will still look fresh.  When he turns back around, Dean has his suit jacket off and is sitting on the edge of his big desk adjusting the tie that falls down the center of his broad chest.  Castiel swallows and takes a tentative step closer, eyes fixed on Dean’s hands.

“Where were you last night?”  Dean’s voice is soft, but there’s still a charged undercurrent in it.  “I was expecting you.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel answers, taking another tentative step.  “Mr. Cooper asked me to type something up for him.  I..  I didn’t get away from here until nearly midnight.”

Dean nods, brow knit in displeasure, but he motions Castiel closer.  Castiel closes the distance between them, standing so near they’re almost touching, just the way he knows Dean likes it.  Dean’s breath is hot across Castiel’s lips, a warmth so welcome he holds his breath so as not to disrupt it.  His voice is low and hoarse when he murmurs, “How are you going to make it up to me, Mr. Novak?”

“I’m wearing girl’s underwear,” Castiel answers, closing his eyes as the heat of a blush crawls up the back of his neck.  It’s delicious and wrong and he can’t stand to see the surprised arousal he knows now colors Dean’s face - not and keep his own composure.  It’s almost unbearably hot under the woolen suit jacket his boss is slowly unbuttoning, a prickle of sweat raising uncomfortably across his shoulder blades.  He adds a whispered, “ _Pink girl’s underwear_.”

“Now why would you tell me that..” Dean starts, one hand finding Castiel’s hip under his jacket, the other closing around the growing bulge in his slacks.  His cheek brushes against Castiel’s and he squeezes harder, forcing a bitten back whimper from Castiel’s throat as he finally finishes the sentence:  “…if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Castiel says, finally opening his eyes when his boss shifts backward. As he suspected, Dean’s face is flushed red under the smattering of dark freckles and the green of his eyes is in danger of being swallowed by the black of his pupils.  

He can’t help the little triumphant smile when Dean releases his painfully hard cock and growls, “ _Show me_.”

Castiel’s jacket is a gray puddle on the floor a half-second later and his hands shake with anticipation as he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants.  Dean is already up and moving away when Castiel lets his gray slacks fall to the floor bunched around his ankles.  He should feel exposed and ashamed, he knows, but the appreciative catch of Dean’s breath just makes him feel sexy.  

Dean is still fully clothed when he molds himself to Castiel’s back and the slide of the bulge in Dean’s slacks over his satin-covered ass is exquisite.  When Dean’s lips find Castiel’s earlobe, sucking gently ahead of a scrape of his teeth, he almost doesn’t notice the hand that’s making its way under his pink girl’s underwear.  He definitely notices, however, when Dean wraps sure fingers around his shaft and starts to stroke.

“Your cheeks match your underwear,” Dean teases. Castiel feels his blush deepen when his boss starts to rub the head of his cock against the inside of his underwear, the introduction of precome to satin making it glide easily.  Castiel tries to stop the shivery gasps that choke in his throat, ever mindful of the need to be quiet lest they be caught, but Dean is pressing open-mouthed kisses just above the collar of his shirt and he’s only human, after all.

Dean stops to nip along the curve of Castiel’s jaw to the same rhythm his hand follows on Castiel’s cock, grinding himself against Castiel’s backside as he is thoroughly engulfed in hot breath and wet kisses and strong hands.  Dean’s free hand comes to rest over Castiel’s throat, gentle pressure to pull his secretary back against him.  Castiel swallows hard, feels his adam’s apple press against Dean’s palm.

When Dean’s hand starts to move more quickly, twisting around the head of Castiel’s cock and forcing it into the wet satin of his panties, it sets his spine on fire with lust.  Gasps turn to breathless moans, still soft, but not soft enough to keep Dean from pulling harder against his throat.  Castiel’s knees threaten to buckle when Dean starts to squeeze more tightly around his cock, his other hand slipping to cover Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a relief to have it there, it allows Castiel to let go, his moans and half-cries stopped by Dean’s palm.  Heat explodes through the center of Castiel, trailing down his nerve endings until he’s shivering and bucking into Dean’s fist.  The flood of hot come is slick and wet as Dean jerks him through orgasm with his head pulled back onto Dean’s shoulder and his chest heaving with each struggling breath through his nose.

When the ringing in Castiel’s ears subsides and the gray at the edge of his vision starts to clear, he hears Dean in mid-sentence.  “..let you go, are you going to be quiet?”

Castiel nods and Dean moves his hand, but not before pulling Castiel’s face to his for a kiss.  He can still feel the hardness of Dean’s cock pressing against his ass, but he doesn’t ask about it.  He knows that if his boss wants to take care of it, he will.  Dean pulls his hand from Castiel’s underwear, smearing the come on his fingers into the fabric across Castiel’s ass as he moves back around.

Dean takes a deep breath and sits back down on the edge of his desk, still so close he’s almost touching his secretary.  It’s all Castiel can do to steady his own breathing enough to hear when Dean gives him his instructions.

“You have one minute to pull yourself together and go back to your desk.  You are not to use the washroom for the rest of the day.  And..  should I expect you to join me for dinner?”

“Yes, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel answers quickly, earning a pleased smile.  Dean finally moves off his desk, leaving Castiel to scramble to compose himself and get his slacks and jacket back in order before he has to go be Dean’s face to the rest of the world.  His cheeks are starting to cool, he smiles with the knowledge that he’s doing his part to keep his temperamental boss happy.

Dean is seated at his desk when Castiel turns to hurry out, just under his one-minute limit.  His hand is on the doorknob when Dean clears his throat.  Castiel looks back over his shoulder to see his boss with his feet propped up on his desk and one hand slowly massaging the bulge in his slacks.

“You should wear _pink girl’s underwear_ more often, Mr. Novak. I find them quite fetching.”

The hot flush creeps up Castiel’s cheeks once more as he whispers an unheard ‘yes, sir’ and scurries back out to his desk.  Once seated, he looks at the clock, shifting in the wetness of his satin underwear and lamenting the fact that dinner is eight hours away.  _Perhaps_ , he thinks, _he should bring Mr. Winchester a hot lunch._


End file.
